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Blackblade 0.04 - Blood and Snow
All the world was sound, pounding, thundering, hoof beats and the sound of my heart in my ears, ragged breaths, mine and his. Snow and black mane whipped my face, stinging equally, forcing my eyes shut. I twisted yet again to look behind us. Nothing. We’d broken from the treeline what felt like hours ago, could only have been minutes. It was out of sight, at any rate. I turned back, closed my eyes again, but I couldn’t believe we’d lost them, not that easily. I could feel his feet starting to slow, tired. Somewhere, deep in my mind, a thought? A memory, my father’s voice, “ Never push a horse to his limit, you’ll ruin his spirit and he’ll never run again.” No choice. I pressed myself lower, closer over his neck, engulfed in his mane, in the smell again; fear-sweat and blood, mine or his? Both, most likely. Some...most, has to be mine, I know I’m bleeding, I have to be...but nothing hurts anymore...nothing at all...strange...“ Come on boy, we can’t stop now...keep going, come on Faxi...” Faxi...A beautiful creature, Odegaard’s stallion...his powerful strides carried us across the open plateau. Late October and it already looked like tundra. I swear I’d never had a horse run that fast, or for that long, nevermind both together, in my life before. And I`ll tell you, I’d run a lot of horses, even back then. Moments later, I could feel his feet slowing again, I opened my eyes. There. Right there, we were almost there. I snapped my heels against him, hard, shouting this time. “ We’re almost home buddy! Come on! Come on!” A surge of power again, speed increasing. Breaths more ragged though, sweat soaking my lower leg. This couldn’t end well. But the town was drawing closer by the second. Gaivoutna, home. We were almost home. Closer, closer, then suddenly we were rocketing by buildings. Wood and stone, all a blur. A weak thought in the back of my mind, barely noticed: We should slow down, we should stop. No strength. Only one hand...If I pull the reins I have to let go of his mane. Can’t. I’ll fall under those pounding hooves and that`ll be the end of it. Somehow we haven’t hit anyone or anything yet. Sounds, colours. Are people shouting to us? It’s all a blur...Suddenly, those hoof beats feel all wrong, the rhythm is gone. His ears, loose and lopped, like he`s fallen asleep. Al at once the world is falling away in front of me; my stomach drops with it. Reflex: kick your stirrups away, try to tuck and roll. Weightlessness, I’m airborne. For a moment I think if only I could stay like this and never-.. Impact. ''Everything went black. We had been on a scouting expedition, my first, and were on our way back, had just passed back onto our side of the wall, a few miles to the north of it, in the forest. Things had gone well, we had observed while going unobserved. It had been uneventful, boring even, in my opinion, after all the planning and warnings about what could go wrong. Frankly, the hobgoblins themselves were pretty boring. They did nothing different from what WE did all day. It was weird to see them so close, acting so...normal, I thought. Of course, I was young and foolish. Later, they told me it was a raiding party on its way back from harassing our ore caravans. It seems we had the bad luck to cross paths with them, but they were more alert, being still within enemy territory. We on the other hand, were relaxed, back on our own lands. Too relaxed, cocky even. Odegaard was acting as our Vanrikki, or Captain that day; he was a brilliant leader and seasoned veteran. On his instruction, we had stopped to rest for a moment; we had set a blistering pace out of their territory and all were tired. Always wise, he had warned us to remain on our guards. Unfortunately, nobody seemed to listen. I certainly didn’t. ''A snap, twig breaking behind me. Here we go, Thraidn is playing stupid games again. That idiot shouldn’t even be out here with us, he’s still such a child. I continued rummaging in my pack. Not falling for that again, nope. But...something feels wrong. A cold, twisting feeling in my gut, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I whirled and reflexively tried to dodge. No doubt, that saved my life. The world exploded, and a searing pain shot across the side of my head and face. Seeing double, stumbling sideways from the blow I instinctively raised my arm in defence, my other hand fumbling for my sword. I caught his second blow with my buckler, and was rewarded with a sickening crunch for my efforts, the pain made my head swim, knees buckle. Seconds later, through the ringing in my ears I heard a voice: “AMBUSH!” I was vaguely aware of the hot wetness down my cheek, in my hair. Smell of iron, copper, blood. Looking up. Leather and steel and teeth and dark piercing eyes, a hateful countenance and...somewhere inside my chest a scream was trapped, I could feel it rattling, begging to get out. Staring. Couldn’t tear my eyes away. Every detail soaking my memories. Blood soaking the snow. Shaking hands, still fumbling with for my sword. My other arm was on fire. Tried to move my fingers. Nothing. Eyes locked on his sword, watched it raise. A fleeting thought`` ''This is it. This is the last thing I`ll see. `` ''A sudden flurry of movement, daggers and blonde braids and a splatter across my face, more blood. But not mine this time. The hobgoblin goes down, Vanrikki Odegaard stands in its place; he’s yelling at me. I can’t make out the words. What? What? All the world is ringing, my head is pounding. Sounds of metal and yelling and chaos. I don’t understand. He grabs me by the front of my armour, hauls me to my feet and shoves me away, yelling something again. I still can’t make it out, but the momentum sets my feet moving. Running, stumbling. Why this direction? Just keep going. Chaos. Everything, chaos. Men and hobgoblins and trees and swords, axes and everyone screaming, and...that sound...I know it...it doesn’t belong here....turning my head to see. Yes. Yes it is. Blood bay and on his hind legs, screaming his rage as he struck out at, struck down the hobgoblins around him. Only an enraged stallion makes that sound, can scream like that. “ ''FAXI!!” who? Me? My own voice, and a whistle “FAXI!” ''That beautiful head swivelled in my direction, ears locked onto me. Hesitation, then surging forward he bowled through the two in front of him. I didn’t wait for him to stop as he neared me. I grabbed a handful of mane and managed to get one foot in a stirrup before he reared, striking at yet another of their warriors. I was secure in the saddle and had him turning before we landed. Due west. Mane and reins in my working hand, I leaned low over his neck, my other arm between me and the saddle. Silently “Please let this be right.” A tap from my heels set him into motion, and we shot through the trees like an arrow. It was sheer luck that we went down in the middle of Gaivoutna. That is certainly the only reason I am here today. Someone ran and got the Shaman, or perhaps ran me to the Shaman, I don`t rightly know. Either way, that`s where I woke up, in the Shaman`s cabin on the edge of town, the only place I could have received the healing necessary to survive a wreck like that. My mother tells me I awoke screaming, fighting, trying to escape. I am inclined believe her, although I have no memory of this, for when I came to, became aware of where I was, I recall the cabin being a mess of broken glass and scattered herbs, as if some wild creature had torn through. My mother moved gingerly, apparently suffering a broken collarbone, courtesy of her efforts to bring me under control; but there was no magic left to heal it at that time. She would have to wait on my account, as would my companions who stumbled into town in the evening. Luckily for Odegaard, there was magic to stabilize him when he staggered in, half frozen and incoherent, the next afternoon. He had walked the whole way, grievously wounded himself; had been the last man off the field. And so that brought the count to five survivors; Odegaard, myself, and three other guards. Faxi was gone, my father claimed a broken neck had sealed his fate. No doubt he meant to soothe me, and deter the ire of my Vanrikki, but I know better. That great horse was dead before he hit the ground; he ran straight into the world of the spirits. I chased him there, and for that, I am eternally remorseful. It was an end he did not deserve. But then, none of us deserved any of it, did we? Category:Banishment of the Blackblades